


holding out for a hero

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [22]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “No time, Haughtdog,” Rosita interrupts. “We need to get a move on so we have enough time to plan.”Nicole puts down her folder and crosses her arms over her chest. “Plan what, exactly.”Rosita grins. “Waverly’s bachelorette party.”





	holding out for a hero

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: WELCOME TO THE 3-PART SPECIAL EDITION, the search is over (you were with me all along). This single, holding out for a hero, is part 2 of a 3-part series that follows Waverly and Nicole over a huge nine-month period of their lives.
> 
> It's May 1997. The wedding is only three months away, Nicole still can't figure out the right playlist, and Chrissy and Rosita have plans for Waverly.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy the early posting time; I'm going to get a tattoo.

**“Holding Out For A Hero” Bonnie Tyler, 1984  
** _ Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy, somewhere just beyond my reach, there's someone reaching back for me. _

“Haught!” Nedley shouts from his office.

Nicole leans against his doorframe, a folder she grabbed from the file room in one hand. “Sir?”

Nedley sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Where are we with the Highway 63 Trade?”

Nicole steps into his office, shrugging a shoulder. “Nothing new on the CPIC. There was a spree of robberies up near Mariana Lake, all with the same MO. And then again down near Grassland a few days later.”

Nedley narrows his eyes, looking at the map on his wall. He glares at the pushpins scattered up and down Highway 63, starting in Radway and stretching up to Fort McMurray. There’s a red pushpin for every report of a robbery in which the victim reported a group of three to four individuals entered their home, stole whatever cash was available, and took other accessible items, like television and stereo sets; green pushpins for every reported spike of overdoses; and yellow pushpins for reported spikes in suspected drug activity. 

“But not here,” he says. Purgatory is a small bubble of empty map right now, surrounded by reds and greens and yellows. 

“Yet,” Nicole adds.

His head snaps in her direction.

“I know we don’t want to have to get be involved, sir,” she says kindly. “But it’s only a matter of time before whatever traveling band of drug runners ends up looking for money or a fix in Purgatory.” She thinks about the guys Nathan used to hang around, the ones from Abee who mixed their booze and their pills. An article she read a year or two ago said that addicts will move up the high ladder until they get their best fix. She wonders how many of them got clean and how many of them kept climbing. 

Nedley scowls. “Nothing reported, though, right?”

“I ran through all of the calls dispatch got, but nothing,” she says.

He nods. “Anyone new in town?”

“Hard to say,” Nicole admits. “They had that car show on the fairgrounds last weekend. It’s May, so the field finally thawed and dried.” She picks at her thumb and lowers her voice. “But I did hear some of the guys at the counter at The Patch saying that they saw David Doucette back in town.”

Nedley narrows his eyes. “Linda’s boy?”

Nicole nods.

Nedley hums, low in the back of his throat. “That boy was always trouble. Thought he might clean himself up when he had Cub, but…”

“But he didn’t,” Nicole finishes. “Like I said, it was just something I heard.”

“From the town gossips,” Nedley says. He snorts and sits up. “Okay, well, keep me in the loop. If you see David anywhere, you let me know.”

Nicole nods sharply, heading back to her desk. She flips open the folder she’s holding as she walks, eyes on the reports inside as she weaves through the bullpen. When she goes to pull out her chair, blindly reaching down for the back of it, her hand comes in contact with something soft and warm.

“If you’re going to feel her up, at least offer to buy her a drink,” Rosita drawls.

Nicole nearly drops her file. Her eyes widen and she looks down at her hand where it’s resting on Chrissy’s chest.

Chrissy looks down with a smirk. “I’m a married woman,” she points out. “And you almost are, for that matter.”

“Oh, my god,” Nicole breathes out. “I’m so sorry.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “As if. You’re totally enjoying this.” She winks. “You haven’t moved your hand yet, by the way.”

Nicole snatches her hand back, forcing it into her pocket. “What’re you doing here.”

Chrissy’s face changes. Her eyes grow dark and her mouth forms a thin line. “We’re concerned about Waverly.”

Nicole’s stomach flops and her chest seizes. “What’s wrong with her?” she asks, her voice breaking. 

Chrissy’s eyes widen. “Oh, no.  _ No _ .” She stands up, her hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “No. She’s fine. Well,  _ physically _ , she’s fine.” Chrissy’s eyes cut to Rosita. “Mentally? We’re worried about her.”

Rosita picks at her nails, leaning back against Nicole’s desk. “She’s gone off the deep end.”

Nicole takes a deep, steadying breath. “She’s what?”

“We’ve seen the boards,” Rosita says flatly. 

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Those things.”

“They’re  _ terrifying _ ,” Rosita continues.

Chrissy winces. “They’re… a lot,” she says, more kindly.

Nicole shakes her head. “Oh, no. They’re totally terrifying. I came face to face with the seating chart the other morning when I got home from my overnight shift.”

“It’s color-coded,” Rosita says, her eyes just slightly wide in horror.

“The color-coding is color-coded,” Chrissy says. “Her bridesmaids are light blue and yours are dark blue and the moms of the brides are, like-”

“Blue-green,” Nicole finishes. “I know. I had to sit through the presentation on  _ why _ she picked the colors she picked. And I was in the middle of a really good ‘Songs for the Overnight Shift’ mixtape that I never got to finish.” She sighs. “So my whole shift, I had to listen to Lonnie talk about his mom’s gangrene.”

Chrissy shudders.

“Yeah,” Nicole agrees.

Chrissy tips her head to the side. “What songs did you have for the playlist?”

“Well, obviously, ‘Night Shift’ by the Commodores,” she starts. “And-”

“No time, Haughtdog,” Rosita interrupts. “We need to get a move on so we have enough time to plan.”

Nicole puts down her folder and crosses her arms over her chest. “Plan what, exactly.”

Rosita grins. “Waverly’s bachelorette party.”

Chrissy sucks in her lips, eyes narrowed at Nicole. “Is that okay with you?” she asks after a minute.

Nicole frowns. “You want my… permission? Is that what you’re asking?”

Chrissy nods. “We kind of wanted to kidnap her for the day.” She looks at Rosita. “We were thinking a stay-in bachelorette party. We can do it at my house.”

Rosita stretches her arms wide. “Madonna-themed, of course.”

“Of course,” Nicole mutters.

“Manis, pedis,” Rosita continues. “Pin the push-up on the Madonna.”

“Movies,” Chrissy interrupts. “We’ll probably watch  _ Evita, Body of Evidence, Who’s That Girl,  _ and _ Desperately Seeking Susan _ .” 

“And booze.” Rosita shrugs a shoulder at Chrissy. “I’ve been working on a cocktail. I’m calling it ‘Like A Virgin.’ It’s got tequila, strawberries, cranberry juice, lemon juice, some vanilla, and just a little bit of chili in it. For a kick,” she adds, winking at Nicole.

Nicole sighs. “That sounds like motor oil in a cup.”

Rosita narrows her eyes for a second and shakes her head. “No, this’ll be lighter in color than that. Motor oil and tequila don’t mix well.”

Nicole pauses for a moment and shakes her head. “I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, hey, Rosita,” Pine says, stopping on his way to his desk. He’s got a big stack of file folders in his hand Nicole knows that he isn’t actually going to go through. They’ll end up on her desk, out of order, and she’ll have to reorder and refile them.

Rosita looks him up and down. “Pine.”

Nicole scowls and takes the files from him, putting them on the corner of her desk. Pine doesn’t say anything, but but pushes his chest out, his arms flexing. 

Nicole gags, hiding the motion behind her hand. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you’re busy Saturday night or not,” Pine continues, ignoring Nicole.

Chrissy leans back, past Pine, catching Nicole’s eyes. Nicole shakes her head slowly.

Rosita picks at her fingernails again, not bothering to look up at Pine when she speaks. “Depends. Are you still driving that junk bucket?”

Pine shifts uncomfortably. “Do you mean-”

Rosita’s head snaps up. “I mean that dump on wheels, yeah.”

“The Lotus Elan is-”

“A matchbox car with front-wheel drive. The interior is like a plastic dungeon.” Rosita narrows her eyes. “And don’t get me  _ started _ on what happens when you pop the hood. That motor was built with duct tape and packing peanuts. It’s  _ 1997 _ , not  _ 1887 _ .”

Pine’s face goes red.

“Get yourself a real car and come talk to me,” Rosita finishes.

Lonnie starts to stand up from his desk. “Hey, you know, I drive a-”

“1992 Subaru Justy,” Rosita interrupts. “You have about as much of a chance as Pinecone over here.”

Nicole bites down on her lower lip, trying to hold in a laugh.

“Your mom, though,” Rosita continues. “Doesn’t she drive a 1965 Chevrolet Impala?

Lonnie frowns. “Well, yeah. Why?”

Rosita lets out a low whistle. “Now  _ that’s _ craftsmanship.”

Nicole steps forward, her hand on Pine’s shoulder. “Okay, okay.” She grabs the stack of file folders. “Why don’t you go put these back,” she suggests. She looks at Lonnie. “Don’t you have something to work on?”

Lonnie shrugs. “I already put my report on your desk.”

Nicole looks down and sees the edge of a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the folders she was carrying earlier. She pulls on it and holds it up, reading it. “Lonnie…” She sighs. “Why am I holding a Missing Persons report with the word ‘Person’ scratched out and ‘pug’ written above it?”

Lonnie smiles. “Mrs. Grandeur’s dog disappeared.”

Nicole sighs again, walking across the bullpen. “Lonnie, we have forms for missing animals.”

Rosita snorts. Chrissy elbows her in the side.

“You really gotta pay attention," Nicole continues, putting the report back on his desk. She glances over at Nedley’s office as she walks back to her own desk. “I’m trying my best, old man,” she mutters.

“Do you still have Eliza’s number?” Chrissy asks as Nicole sits down at her desk.

Nicole tips her head to one side as she thinks. She squints and leans forward, thumbing through the rolodex on her desk. She finds the card labeled Eliza Shapiro. She scribbles the number down on a sticky note and hands it to Chrissy. “You’re inviting her?”

Rosita takes the sticky note from Chrissy and opens her Motorola StarTAC flip phone, punching the number into the directory.

Chrissy nods. “A few other people, too. Kimberly and Jennifer from high school. Tammy, she works at the bank. Rosie, Cheryl, and Lisa,” Chrissy says, listing girls Waverly used to cheerlead with.

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “Lisa is-”

Rosita leans forward. “I said  _ no _ to Lisa, but someone ignored that suggestion.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Waverly likes her.”

“Waverly likes  _ everyone _ ,” Rosita argues. “She’s got terrible taste in people. Present company excluded,” she adds quickly.

“I’m going to ask Wynonna, Mercedes, and Valdez, too” Chrissy continues, ignoring Rosita. “But I’m sure they’re doing something for you.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “God, I hope not.”

“So Saturday, we’ll come and get her,” Chrissy says.

Nicole looks wearily at the small desk calendar next to her computer. “Saturday. It’s my weekend shift for the month, so…” she shrugs. “You don’t need my permission, though.”

“Permission for what?” someone asks.

Nicole sits up as Waverly rounds the corner. “To, uh…” She looks helplessly at Chrissy.

“Use that old Snapper mower,” Chrissy offers.

Waverly frowns. “Does that thing still even run?”

Nicole shrugs, biting her bottom lip. Rosita wiggles her eyebrows above Waverly’s head.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Chrissy says, her back teeth clenched around the lie.

Nicole ignores Rosita and smiles. She stands up, her hand going to Waverly’s waist and squeezing softly. “What’re you doing here?”

Waverly hooks her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the counter. “Linda asked the other day if I could bring Cub by.”

Nicole snorts. “Still grounded?” she asks, loud enough for Cub and Linda to hear her.

“Until the day I croak,” Linda says, her hand on Cub’s shoulder as she leads him through the station towards the conference table. “Now grab yourself a seat by Officer Haught and get started on your homework.”

“But Gram-”

“Gram  _ nothing _ ,” Linda interrupts. “You don’t like havin’ to come here after school? Well, tough luck, boy. I don’t like coming to my place of work, just to find out you nearly sideswiped a patrol car with your bicycle.”

Cub’s head drops, his eyes on the table top in front of him. “Fine,” he mumbles.

Nicole quickly looks away when Linda’s head turns in her direction. 

“And don’t you start a conversation with anyone here,” Linda continues loudly. “These people have important jobs and you’re not going to get in the way of them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind the company, Linda,” Lonnie says, smiling widely.

Linda narrows her eyes. “You’ve got a report to write, Lonnie Stuckey.”

Lonnie straightens up, his smile gone. “Right, ma’am.”

“Well, then,” Chrissy says, clapping her hands together. “I’ll just say hi to my dad, and then… stop by tomorrow, for the Snapper,” she says slowly, her eyes on Nicole.

“Cool it,” Rosita mumbles, following after Chrissy.

Waverly leans her hip against Nicole’s desk. “Does she know she’ll have to go to your mom’s to get that lawn mower?”

Nicole shrugs. “I’m not sure she cares.”

Waverly shakes her head. She reaches up and brushes away something on the collar of Nicole’s uniform shirt. “You working late tonight?”

Nicole shakes her head, resting her hand on her desk, the tips of her fingers brushing the long-sleeved floral print dress Waverly picked out this morning. “Out by 1700.”

Waverly wrinkles her nose. “That’s… 5 o’clock?”

Nicole grins. “You got it.”

Waverly beams. “See? I can figure it out.”

“Now if you’d only learn what  _ good _ music is,” Nicole teases.

Waverly opens her mouth, but Rosita and Chrissy come up behind her.

“Come on, Waves,” Rosita says, looping her arm through Nicole’s. “Let’s go to The Patch and get some shakes.”

Waverly looks at Nicole.

“Go,” Nicole says quickly. “You don’t need to ask.”

“I was going to go home and get started on that lasagna,” Waverly says apologetically. “So if I go, it means we’ll be eating at The Patch.”

Nicole lifts an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a problem.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and slips out of Rosita’s hold, pressing up on her toes and kissing Nicole’s cheek softly. “Come by when you get done. I’ll hold a seat at the counter for you.”

Nicole pulls Waverly in closer, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Deal,” she murmurs, letting Waverly go. She watches Rosita pull Waverly through the bullpen, Chrissy trailing behind them. She slumps back down into her seat and stares at the reports on her desk. Only a few hours until the end of her shift, and she wants to get the rest of the Mrs. Dray file up to date with the latest call logs.

“Hey, Officer Haught?” Cub asks.

“Yeah?” Nicole asks, her eyes on the report in front of her.

“Are me and my Gram invited to the wedding?”

Nicole looks up, blinking. “The wedding?”

“Yeah.” Cub stares at her for a moment when she doesn’t say anything. “ _ Your _ wedding.”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ , right.” Nicole rubs at the back of her neck. “How’d you know I was getting married?” She immediately shakes her head. “Your Gram.”

Cub shrugs a shoulder. “And because all the girls are talking about Ms. Earp’s ring and how it’s  _ so romantic _ ,” he mocks. “She showed it to me in the car.”

Nicole feels the back of her neck start to sweat. “They, uh… They do?”

Cub rolls his eyes. “It’s  _ all _ they’re talking about. Ms. Earp this and Ms. Earp that, and  _ didn’t you hear she got down on one knee at Shorty’s _ .”

“Wh-what?”

Cub leans forward. “You’ve got every boy in the senior class nervous, because all of their girlfriends are talking about how they want to be proposed to. They say Michael Victor was crying in the second floor boy’s bathroom during second period because his girlfriend wants to be proposed to on top of Goat’s Eye Mountain”

Nicole’s mouth slowly drops open. “Are you kidding?”

Cub shrugs. “He’s worried because he’s afraid of heights.” He taps the end of his pencil against what looks like math homework. “Ms. Earp’s after school study class is just a bunch of girls who pretend like they’re suddenly interested in Purgatory’s history. Really, they’re just trying to get information out of her about the wedding.” He smiles crookedly. “One of them got her started on the wedding registry in town hall and she talked for  _ an hour _ .”

Nicole snorts softly. “That makes sense. She came home the other night and started going on about how her after school hours got busy all of the sudden. She thought kids were suddenly taking an interest in Purgatory.” She laughs. 

“So when are you getting married, anyway?” Cub asks, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow in the middle of his homework.

“Uh,” Nicole says, thinking. “August 11, so…” She looks at her flip calendar, thumbing through the pages. _Eighty-two days_ , she thinks to herself. _Eighty-two_ _days_ _until I get married_. _Eighty-two days until the rest of my life can-_

“Haught!” Nedley shouts from his office.

Nicole shakes her head, standing up quickly and almost knocking over her cold cup of coffee. She smiles sheepishly at Cub and pats him on the shoulder as she passes behind him.

“Yes, sir?” she asks, poking her head into Nedley’s open office door.

Nedley gestures for her to come in and shut the door. “Let’s talk about your agenda for next week’s inter-department meeting. I have some notes for you.”

 

-

Nicole climbs the stairs to her apartment, each step heavier than the last. It’d been a long day and she was ready to sit down with Styx, a beer, and see if there was a hockey game on or if she was so tired that she read the wrong  _ Ottawa Citizen _ and the game was really yesterday. 

Styx sits patiently at her side as she unlocks the door. She picked him up from The Patch earlier, his tail wagging excitedly as she pushed open the door to the office. She smiled instantly, dropping to one knee and letting Styx lick her face, neck, ears, and hands. 

“I missed you, too, buddy,” she breathed, pressing her face into his neck.

Styx stood up on his hind legs, his paws on Nicole’s chest. He licked her face and she laughed, nudging him away until she had room to stand up again. “Let’s go home,” she said.

She thanked Gus, took a to-go basket of fries, and drove through Purgatory with the windows down, letting Styx hang out of the passenger side.

“ _ Show me the way, show me the way. Take me tonight to the river and wash my illusions away. Show me the way… _ ”

She steps into her apartment and drops her keys in the basket by the door. Styx pads ahead of her, his nails clicking against the hardwood. She can hear him in the kitchen, lapping at his water bowl, as she turns on the lights. 

She looks around the living room and sighs. Chrissy hadn’t been kidding earlier when she called the station to tell Nicole they kidnapped Waverly. There’s confetti everywhere, and small, broken poppers scattered around the floor. All of Waverly’s school books - the work she started this morning when Nicole left for the station - is still scattered around the coffee table. One of her pens is uncapped.

“They must have actually kidnapped her,” Nicole mutters to herself. She stands in front of the couch and takes in the whole room. 

Her stereo is hidden behind a large tripod with a 4 x 5 foot bulletin board attached to it. Smaller tripods and corkboards are lined up along the windows, outlining every minute detail of their wedding. They have a board for the seating chart, the menu, the guest list, the schedule, the to-do list, and the music. Nicole stops in front of the last bulletin board, the one with ‘MUSIC’ written in an index card on the top if it, and scans the list.

This one is  _ her _ board. 

Waverly can have the rest of it. Nicole will help, offer suggestions about who should sit with who and why they definitely shouldn’t put Valdez at the same table as Beau Smith, who Waverly wants to invite. She’ll help decide on the menu and she’ll veto inviting Cecil Wright, Jr., but Waverly is conducting the boards. She makes the moves.

The bulletin board with the music is  _ her _ responsibility.

It has been since the minute Waverly came home from school, lugging four tripods under one arm. Nicole had paused, mid-sip, and put her Moosehead down on the kitchen counter, mouth hanging open as Benji Thompson and three other boys in varsity jackets carried in large corkboards. A few girls Nicole didn’t know trailed behind them, carrying smaller boards and large boxes.

“What is this?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Over there, Benji. Sean, get that couch out of the way, would you,” Waverly had instructed. “Jimmy, unless you want to lose a finger, you won’t touch that stereo,” she said without even turning around.

“Hi, Officer Haught,” one of the girls said, her cheeks red.

Nicole blinked slowly. “Hi…”

“Lizzy,” the girl said. “Well, Elizabeth. But no one calls me that. Except my mom. And you, i-if you wanted to. That’d be fine.”

“Lizzy,” Nicole repeated faintly.

“I’m in Ms. Earp’s ‘Perspectives’ class,” Lizzy said. 

Nicole shook her head slowly. “What is going on?”

Waverly smiled brightly at her. “I found these near the dumpster. Can you believe someone was going to just throw them away?” She didn’t wait for Nicole’s answer. “Good thing I saw them. I was thinking about our guest list, and I think the seating chart is going to be more difficult than I originally thought,” she continued. “Oh, Lizzy, can you put that stack of wedding magazines down on the couch?” She looked at Nicole. “Mrs. Wingate, the librarian, found these and put them aside for me.” She turned back to the kids. “Don’t mind Styx. He’s a sweetheart.”

Nicole looked down at Styx, already on his back on the floor. Two girls were kneeling next to him, scratching his stomach while his tongue lolled out to one side.

“And this,” Waverly said, delicately picking a board out of one of the boy’s arms. “This one is for you.”

Nicole took it and stared at it. “For what?”

“For the music,” Waverly said, smiling at her. “For you to map out a playlist.”

She won’t let Waverly touch it or add to it without talking to her first. Wynonna had been over last week and tried to tack ‘Honey Child’ by Bad Company onto the board without asking; Nicole had slapped the index card out of her hand and banished her to the couch. She studies the board now, squinting at each carefully constructed row. She’s written a preliminary list of songs she wanted to hear and have them on the left side of the board. On the right, she has track numbers.

“I’ll just put them in order this way,” she told Waverly. “It should be easy.”

A month later, she still has no idea what song should kick off their ceremony, or what song they should dance their first dance to. She picks up “You and I” by Eddie Rabbitt and Crystal Gayle and holds it over the Number 2 spot, frowning. She sighs and puts it back on the left side of the board.

She can’t figure out how to make this mixtape, and it’s driving her crazy.

Styx picks up an empty popper bottle and starts chewing on it. 

Nicole sighs and says his name sharply.

Styx drops it and pads over to her, licking at her hand. She absently scratches at his head, and then decides she’ll have to clean up before she can sit down with that beer. She sighs and fishes in the couch cushions for the television remote, turning it on and flipping through channels until she hears Dan Shulman’s voice.

“It’s scoreless after two innings,” Shulman says. “Here at the top of the third, we’ve got Clemens on the mound and Brito at the plate.”

She grabs the trash can from the kitchen and slowly makes her way through the house, picking up handfuls of confetti and empty plastic poppers. She sweeps up what she can’t grab and puts the trash back in the kitchen, pouring some food into Styx’s bowl, and heading back into the living room. She takes a beer out of the refrigerator, popping the tab and taking a long pull from it as she stands in the middle of the room.

She lets out a long sigh and rolls her shoulders. She shouldn’t have pushed and run that extra mile this morning; her body aches.

“You need to start stretching,” she says out loud. “You’re not eighteen anymore.”

Styx is on the couch, curled up on Waverly’s side with his new bear, the one from the night she proposed. He keeps the other one in the bedroom, on the floor by the end of the bed where he likes to sleep. Nicole scowls a little as she thinks about all of the nights she wakes up because Waverly has stolen all of the covers, just to find that purple bear in her face, wet from Styx’s mouth.

She puts her beer down on the coffee table, props her legs up next to it, and buries her hand in Styx’s fur, listening as Shulman announces the lineup for the start of the bottom of the fourth.

“We’ve got Williams at bat, Martinez on deck, and O’Neill behind him. Now, Williams had a career high 108 runs last year and he’s on track to match that this season,” Shulman says. “His first at bat, he went down looking. Right now, he’s going to need to track the ball and make a connection.”

By the time the top of the seventh comes around and the crowd stands for the seventh inning stretch, Nicole’s eyelids are heavy, her beer is sweating on the coffee table, and Styx has pushed into her lap. He’s warm and she’s tired and her eyes start to slide closed as Carlos Garcia steps up to the plate.

The phone rings.

Nicole startles, her leg kicking out and just barely missing the half-empty beer can. Styx lifts his head, ears high.

“And a flyball to left field and…” Shulman trails off. “And a  _ catch _ by Raines in left field. Rogers has one down. Nixon steps into the box for his fourth at bat.”

The phone rings again and Nicole shakes her head.

It rings a third time as she pushes off the couch and walks towards the kitchen, stretching her arms high above her head. She groans and grabs the phone, pulling it off the hook.

“Baby!” someone shouts in her ear.

Nicole winces and pulls the phone away from her ear.

“Baby! Are you there?” Waverly yells.

“God, Waves. Stop screaming into the phone,” Chrissy says, her voice sounding far away. “Did she even pick up?”

There’s a moment of silence before Waverly is back on the line, her voice much softer.

“Baby?”

Nicole shakes her head, trying to wake herself up. “Waves?”

“Oh, good,” Waverly breathes into her ear. “You’re there.”

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks, wiping at her eyes. Styx has followed her into the kitchen, leaning against her legs.

“I’m  _ so _ great,” Waverly says. “I totally pinned Madonna.”

Nicole snickers. “Did you?”

“Rosita says I cheated and that I’m only per-perfic-” Waverly exhales loudly. “ _ Proficient _ , because I’m a-”

Waverly’s voice cuts off abruptly and Nicole frowns, pulling the phone away from her ear and checking the cord. When she puts the receiver back to her ear, she can hear Waverly, her voice small and far away. 

“Waves?”

“Oh, good. She didn’t hang up on you,” Chrissy says in relief. “She’s  _ totally _ juiced.”

Nicole sighs. “I thought this was, like, a simple girls night thing.”

“It’s a bachelorette party!” Rosita screams.

Nicole winces again. “Since when you do you know the word ‘proficient’?” she asks.

“Provision?” Rosita asks. “I have no idea what that means.”

There’s a small scuffling noise before Chrissy is speaking in her ear again. “I hate them all. I borrowed Perry’s mom’s station wagon, but I can’t fit everyone in it. Rosie brought Carla, and Eliza came right here from the the bus station, so she has all of her bags. And you know how Rosita demands the front seat and, like, legally, I don’t even have enough seatbelts for-”

“What are you asking me?” Nicole interrupts.

“Can you come pick Waverly up?” Chrissy asks.

Nicole checks the clock. “Can you give me ten minutes?”

“Take twelve,” Chrissy offers, hanging up the phone with a hard  _ click _ .

Nicole sighs and runs a hand through her hair, eyeing her half-empty beer can. She can still drive, but she pouts softly as she tips the can and dumps the rest of the beer down the sink. She makes a silent promise to herself to open another one when she gets home.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she promises Styx as she locks the door behind her. 

Her feet are heavy on the stairs, and as climbs into her car, she regrets not changing out of her uniform earlier. Her Styx cassette picks up where it left off and she sings along softly as she takes a few sidestreets on her way to Chrissy’s house, subconsciously driving past Mrs. Dray’s house. Purgatory is quiet so late at night, street lights humming softly as she drives under them. She can see televisions on in people’s living rooms, blue lights through thin curtains. 

_ Home _ , she thinks.  _ This is my home _ .

Chrissy’s house is bright, all of the downstairs lights shining through the windows. Nicole turns down her music and shakes her head when she can hear Madonna echoing faintly from inside the house.

“It’s a wonder no one has called in a noise complaint,” she mutters to herself, looking around the small cul-de-sac Chrissy and Perry live on. It’s fancy houses, two stories high, with long driveways and Mercedes Benzes parked in them. Her Bonneville looks old and sad, sitting on the curb.

She adjusts her belt, her thumb tucked behind it as she lifts her other hand and knocks on the front door, sharp and neat.

It swings open immediately, Waverly wobbling in the doorway. Her eyes widen, her mouth hanging open for a minute as she looks Nicole up and down.

“Oh my god, you  _ bitch _ ,” Waverly shouts over her shoulder.

Nicole leans forward a little and sees Chrissy in the front hall, her hand clapped over her mouth.

“Waverly,” Chrissy says slowly.

“You hired a stripper!” Waverly continues. She throws her arms up in something that looks like an old cheerleading move, her shirt riding up around her midriff.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “ _ Wh-what _ ?”

Waverly grabs her by the arm and tugs her over the threshold, their bodies colliding as they stumble over Chrissy’s thick Victorian rug. Waverly steadies herself, hands hot as they slide over Nicole’s arms, trailing off her shoulders.

“Okay, Patrick Swayze,” Waverly instructs, her voice sharp even as she sways in place. “Show me your moves.”

Rosita laughs hard, falling off the edge of the couch. She lands on top of Lisa and keeps laughing, tears in the corner of her eyes. “ _ A stripper _ ,” she says, wheezing.

Nicole shakes her head. “No, no, no.”

“You look like Erik Estrada,” Waverly breathes out, eyes glazed over for a moment. “But  _ better _ .”

Rosita sits up suddenly, jabbing her finger in Waverly’s direction. “No one is better than Erik Estrada.”

Waverly throws a hand out. “Wait. You need music.”

“I’m not stripping,” Nicole says loudly.

Waverly pushes a few buttons on the Pioneer Elite PD-F19 301 Disc CD Changer Jukebox Player Carousel Perry bragged about for weeks before something starts pulsing out of the speakers.

_ “Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?” _

Chrissy makes loud gagging noises. Lisa, Rosie, and Cheryl frown. Eliza leans over the back of the couch, turning her body so she’s hanging upside down, and grins at Nicole.

“ _ Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?” _

“You picked  _ this _ song?” Rosita asks.

Waverly shushes them. 

Nicole shakes her head firmly. “I’m not stripping.”

_ “ _ _ Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need. _ ”

Waverly glides forward, her hips moving fluidly. Nicole blames the half a beer for the way her eyes follow each step; she blames the beer for not noticing how close Waverly is until Waverly’s hands are sliding up her stomach and falling away just under the swell of her breasts.

“ _ I need a hero _ ,” Waverly sings. “ _ I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.” _

She grabs Waverly’s hand and bites down on her bottom lip.  “Waverly,” she says through gritted teeth.

Waverly grins, the corners of her mouth turning up dangerously, sliding her hand free. She walks her fingers down the buttons of Nicole’s uniform shirt. “ _ She's gotta be strong and she's gotta be fast and she's gotta be fresh from the fight. _ ”

Rosita screams, a smile on her face. “She changed the lyrics!”

Waverly looks back over her shoulder and winks at Rosita. 

“ _ I need a hero _ ,” she continues to sing, walking her fingers back up Nicole’s shirt and curling around the collar. She loosens the top button, standing so close that Nicole has to lean back a little to see Waverly’s face.

_ “I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.” _

Nicole swallows heavily and feels a second button pop loose.

“ _ She's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon and she's gotta be larger than life! _ ”

Waverly’s hand slides down her front to her belt.

“ _ Larger than life, _ ” Waverly breathes out as her hands curl around Nicole’s belt loop, tugging gently enough that Nicole doesn’t notice she’s managed to slip the leather out of the buckle until Waverly needs two hands to pull the belt back and slide the prong out of the punch hole.

Nicole jumps back, her hand covering her belt buckle. “Waverly,” she hisses, putting her belt back together.

Waverly pushes her bottom lip out. “So… you’re  _ not _ stripping?”

Eliza and Rosita slide off the couch at the same time, coming up behind Waverly and draping a coat over her shoulders, sliding her purse into her hand.

“Listen here, bride-to-be,” Rosita says kindly. “You need about a whole bottle ibuprofen and a gallon of water. And your big hero here is going to take care of that.”

Eliza presses a sloppy kiss to Waverly’s cheek. “Breakfast tomorrow. Gus still makes those greasy potatoes, right? Those are the shit,” she sighs, eyes glazed over before she blinks twice. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Waverly says. She smiles slowly. “Guys, this was the best.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen. “Oh, god. She’s going to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry,” Waverly insists, her voice thick and her eyes starting to shine. “I just… I just  _ love _ you guys. You put together this really, really special night. Just for  _ me _ . I put a push-up bra on Madonna and I had, like, seven virgins. And you guys are just so…  _ clutch _ .”

“She’s crying,” Rosita says.

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, holding back a laugh.

Waverly shakes her head. “I’m  _ not _ ,” she protests. “I’m just  _ emotional _ .”

“Well, you’re getting your emotions all over your face and Chrissy’s mother-in-law’s expensive carpet.”

Chrissy looks down at it with a frown. “Drown it. In fact, bring Styx over and let him roll around.”

“He’d love that,” Nicole says.

Waverly’s head snaps up, like she’s just remembering that Nicole is standing there. “Baby!”

Nicole winces, pressing a hand to her ear.

“You’re  _ so _ pretty and I like you  _ so _ much,” Waverly cries, wiping at her face.

Nicole nods, trying to keep a straight face. “I like you a lot, too.”

Waverly’s head snaps up. “Really?”

“Really,” Nicole echoes. “Enough to marry you. And enough to do this,” she says, reaching down and sweeping her arm up against the back of Waverly’s knees. Waverly yelps, but Nicole’s other hand goes to her back, cradling her safely. “The door?” she asks.

Lisa slips around her and swings it open. Nicole nods sharply at Lisa, looking back over her shoulder briefly to smile quickly at Chrissy.

“I love you!” Waverly shouts.

“We love you!” everyone at the party yells back.

Waverly sags in Nicole’s arms, her fingers loose and sweaty against Nicole’s neck. “Take me away, officer,” she sighs.

 

-

Waverly leans her forehead against the cool window and breathes out through her nose. Nicole looks at her for a moment, rubbing her back gently before she starts the car.

“Are you mad at me?” Waverly asks after a minute, her voice so quiet that Nicole nearly misses it.

Nicole turns down the volume. “I’m not mad at you,” she says gently. “You’re my  fiancée .”

“You’re not a stripper,” Waverly says, her voice heavy and tired.

Nicole rolls her eyes affectionately as she pulls up to a stop sign. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

Waverly pushes off of the passenger window and slides across the bench, pressing into Nicole’s side. “Will you strip for me later?” 

Nicole snorts softly, dropping her arm across the back of the bench, her fingers resting on Waverly’s shoulders. “No,” she says. “Probably not.”

Waverly huffs against Nicole’s arm. “I stripped for you.”

Nicole feels the back of her neck flush, Van Halen seeping in through the Styx tape for a moment before it fades out. “I remember,” she says, trying to keep her voice even.

Waverly grins at her, a hand snaking over Nicole’s knee. 

Nicole drops her hand down over Waverly’s, squeezing softly. “I’m driving,” she says quietly.

Waverly’s hand goes slack. “I’m sorry,” she breathes out.

Nicole pulls up to another stop sign, puts the car in park, and turns in her seat, tucking some of Waverly’s hair behind her ear. “Don’t apologize,” she murmurs. She leans down and kisses Waverly softly.

Waverly leans forward suddenly, the top of her head catching Nicole in the mouth.

Nicole hisses and brings her hand up to her mouth, her teeth throbbing.

Waverly winces and reaches up, peeling Nicole’s hand away and peering at her face. Her eyes narrow into slits and her forehead wrinkles, but after a minute, she giggles. “You’re all frowny,” she says, poking Nicole in the forehead.

A flash of irritation rushes through Nicole, but it fades as quickly as it comes. She catches Waverly’s finger in her hand and holds onto it as she feels at her lip with her other hand. “Probably because my lip is going to look like I went a round with Mike Tyson,” she says.

Waverly twists her hand in Nicole’s until their fingers lace, their palms pressed together tightly. “Did you win?”

Nicole scoffs. “Dolls is the boxing champ, not me.” 

Waverly sighs. “You trained all summer with him.” Her eyes cloud over for a moment. “You looked so good.”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“I  _ mean _ it,” Waverly insists, pressing closer. “You were in those shorts and those shirts.” She hums, low in her throat. “ _ Those shirts _ .”

Nicole laughs and nudges Waverly back enough that she can reach the gearshift to put the car in drive.

Waverly reaches forward, her hand sliding along the muscle of Nicole’s arm. “No, no,” she continues. “I  _ loved _ those shirts. I could see your shoulders and your biceps.” She runs her hands over each part of Nicole’s arm as she talks. “And your forearms.” She sighs dreamily. “Your forearms.”

“My forearms,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly’s finger trails down Nicole’s side, along her ribcage. “I liked watching you run in them.”

Nicole looks in the rearview mirror at the empty street behind her and shudders. “You’re…”

“In love with you,” Waverly sings. “Do you have any Bonnie Tyler in here?”

“You’re not putting on ‘Holding Out For A Hero’ right now,” Nicole says.

Waverly pouts. “But I  _ love _ that song.”

Nicole snorts. “Sure you do.”

Waverly slides across the bench seat and Nicole exhales softly, putting the car in drive again. Waverly pulls open the glove compartment and takes out two handfuls of cassettes. Nicole glances over as they drive slowly under streetlights, watching the way Waverly holds up each case into the soft glare of the light, trying to read them.

“What’re you looking for?” Nicole asks, pulling into the driveway.

Waverly frowns at the cassette in her hand. “Where’s our makeout tape?”

Nicole nods in the direction of the glove compartment a she puts the car in park. “It’s in there,” she says. “But we’re home.”

“ _ Noooo  _ thank you,” Waverly sings. “I wanna make out.”

Nicole laughs. “We’re home,” she repeats, turning off the engine.

Waverly slides into her side, her hand hot on Nicole’s leg. “But think of all the making out we could do.”

“Think of what we could do  _ in our bed _ ,” Nicole says back.

Waverly’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nicole whispers. “Like, sleep.” She leans forward quickly and kisses Waverly before grabbing the handle and opening the door. She gets out and holds her hand out, offering it to Waverly.

Waverly huffs loudly, but stretches her hand out of the car to take Nicole’s. She lets Nicole pull her out of the car. Nicole laughs when she starts singing along to “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Nicole lets Waverly dance up the stairs, her hands hovering nervously at Waverly’s waist.

“ _ Once upon a time I was falling in love _ ,” Waverly sings loudly.

Nicole presses Waverly against the door, shushing her softly.

Waverly’s fingers slide into Nicole’s pocket, curling tightly. “Well, hello, Officer.”

Nicole’s face flushes. “I don’t think so, Ms. Earp.”

“But we’re alone,” Waverly pouts.

“And you’re drunk."

“But you’re pretty and-”

“And you like me so much, I know,” Nicole finishes. She slips her key in the door and fights a smile when Waverly stumbles back half an inch. Nicole reaches out to steady her, and leans down, kissing her forehead. “Let’s get your pajamas on.”

Waverly hip-checks her softly and then drops to her knees, rubbing her face in Styx’s fur. “Yes, yes, I missed you, too, boy,” she murmurs over and over.

Nicole closes and locks the door behind them, toeing off her Oxfords and sighing in relief. She waits until Waverly stands up, and then she loops her arms around Waverly’s waist, walking her slowly in the direction of the bedroom.

“Well, hello,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole shakes her head. “I’m just making sure you don’t fall over on your way to get pajamas.”

Waverly scoffs. “I’m not  _ that _ drunk.”

“You cried because you love your friends so much,” Nicole points out.

Waverly turns in her arms, stopping them at the bedroom door. “I just…  _ really _ do love them.”

Nicole softens, tucking a strand of hair behind Waverly’s ear. “I know you do, baby.” She kisses Waverly’s forehead. “They’re lucky to have you.”

“ _ I’m  _ lucky to have them,” Waverly murmurs.

“Let’s get changed, and then we can see if we missed the end of the baseball game,” Nicole says, moving around Waverly and undoing the rest of the buttons of her shirt. She hangs her shirt up and pulls open dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of pants for her, a pair for Waverly, and a shirt for each of them. She pulls on the shirt and runs a hand through her hair, reaching for her belt.

Waverly beats her to it, tugging her belt hard and sliding it out of the loops of her pants, wiggling her eyebrows as she does.

Nicole wads up the shirt in her hands and throws it in Waverly’s direction, laughing when it hits her in the face. It drops to the floor with a soft  _ thump, _ and Nicole laughs harder at the look of shock on Waverly’s face.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Waverly promises.

Nicole sticks out her tongue.

Waverly pulls her shirt over her head slowly, wetting her bottom lip as she drags it over her chest and off her arms. Nicole swallows heavily and tries to step into her sweatpants - the ones she likes to wear to bed, black with a small hole in the knee - and misses. Her knee buckles slightly, and she hisses at the uncomfortable stretch in her muscle. Waverly snorts and drops her shirt to the floor.

Nicole pulls her sweatpants on, her face red. “I’ll be in the living room,” she mumbles, embarrassed. She walks, barefoot, into the living room and looks around. The baseball game is definitely over by now, but she’ll be able to get the score tomorrow in the  _ Ottawa Citizen _ .

Nicole stands in front of her playlist board and sighs. She narrows her eyes and scans the list of potential songs to play at the wedding. A pair of arms snake around her waist and Waverly’s cheek presses against her arm at the same that Waverly pushes a beer can into her hand.

“What’s the matter?” Waverly asks, her words slightly slurred.

Nicole lifts her arm and Waverly moves into her side, one arm stretched along the small of Nicole’s back. “It’s just… not coming to me.”

“The playlist?”

Nicole nods. “I know the songs we should have,” she says, gesturing at the left side of the board. “Like, we want to have Foreigner and Hall & Oates and The Romantics, but I can’t figure out the order. What do you think?”

Waverly pushes out her bottom lip, tipping her head to the side as she studies the board. “I think it’s up to you, baby.”

Nicole sighs. “No, that’s the problem. I  _ can’t _ put it together.”

Waverly turns, pulling Nicole around until they’re face to face. “Yes, you can.”

Nicole looks down and forgets, for a minute, what Waverly is saying. She’s in a shirt Nicole didn’t take out of the dresser - a Metallica shirt that hangs just a little too long, and nothing else. Nicole shakes her head and opens her mouth, but Waverly cuts her off.

“Baby, there are a lot of things in life that you’re good at.” Waverly smiles, her mouth crooked. “But there are a few things you’re  _ the best _ at. Like, being a cop and being a sister and being mine, but  _ music _ .” She inhales sharply and shakes her head. “You’re fantastic at music.”

Nicole feels her cheeks flushing. “No, I’m-”

“You are,” Waverly says firmly. “And you’re going to figure out the playlist for our wedding.”

“I can’t figure out what our first dance should be,” Nicole whines.

“You will,” Waverly says firmly. “ I'm in luck.”

Nicole frowns, pulling back a little. “What?”

“I’m in deep,” Waverly says, shrugging a shoulder.

“In deep what?” Nicole asks.

Waverly spins out of her arms and across the room, falling down onto the couch with a  _ thud _ . Nicole watches her nudge at Styx until there’s a spot on the couch just barely big enough for Nicole to fit into. Waverly pats the couch cushion and looks back at Nicole. 

“You coming?”

Nicole sighs and sits down, rolling her eyes when Waverly immediately stretches out, her head in Nicole’s lap and her feet tucked under Styx’s stomach. Nicole reaches for the clicker and turns the television on, thumbing through channels until she finds a rerun of Due South. Styx sits up a little straighter as  Diefenbaker comes onto the screen.

Nicole holds her beer in one hand and runs her fingers through Waverly’s hair with the other.

_ I’m in luck _ , she thinks.

She smiles down at Waverly, eyes are fluttering closed.

_ I’m in luck _ .   
  
  
  



End file.
